It's Not a Home Without You
by NJ Coffee Queen
Summary: Sometimes all you need is someone to call home.


Disclaimer - I, yet again, own nothing.

**It's Not a Home Without You**

Draco Malfoy was fed up. Not a second of his day could go by without someone wanting some little piece of him. "When will you settle down?" he heard from his mother. "When will those reports be on my desk?" his boss would ask. "Why can't you ever just do as you're asked?" his father would question. But mostly he heard it from her - "Why can't you just love me like I love you?"

That night, he'd stormed in, slamming doors, throwing his cloak halfway across the living room, pitching his left shoe, then his right.

"Are you alright?" Hermione Granger asked, looking up momentarily from her book. His blonde locks were disheveled, probably from running his frustrated fingers through it, and an angry scowl was set on his thin, pointed face.

"Do I look alright to you?" he inquired, his tone thick and menacing. This wasn't her Draco. No, this Draco Malfoy was beginning to resemble the old Malfoy. Hermione half expected him to sneer and call her a filthy little mudblood. Inwardly, and maybe even a bit outwardly, she winced.

With a shake of her head, Hermione closed the novel and sat up, staring into his eyes. They were cold, steel-like in their aggravation. "Do you want to talk about it?"

The sneer set across his features. "I want this to be over. I can't do this anymore."

A familiar sting set into her brown eyes. It was a sting she'd felt so many times before at his cruel words. Hermione had to blink, think about something else in order to keep her composure. "What is it exactly that you can't do anymore, Draco?"

"This, Granger, you and me. It's over." He didn't even believe the words that came out of his mouth. His hands ran over his face, scrubbing away a day's worth of misery, scrubbing away the look on her face that would forever be implanted in his brain.

"You don't mean that," she whispered, her voice shaking as new tears built up behind her eyes.

"You had to know this couldn't work out between us," he continued, pretending not to hear her words, feel the same pain she felt. "I can't possibly have my perfect bloodlines mix with a...mudblood." Draco could practically feel himself choke over the old taunt he used to throw at her back when he truly believed that was right.

Hermione stood her ground, swatting away the beads of moisture as if they were gnats. "I've been reading this story," she started, watching his stiff figure cross towards their bedroom. Draco stopped in his tracks at the sound of her now stoic voice. His gaze locked on the wooden door as she continued. "In this one scene, a man has been sitting in a hospital waiting room for three days. You see, his wife had passed away. She'd been sick for awhile, and finally the illness claimed her. He sat there, Draco, for three days because he wouldn't... he couldn't go back to their home because she wouldn't be there. Because it was their home, and without her, without the woman he'd loved and spent thirty years of his life with, he didn't have a home anymore."

He waited for her to stop speaking, his throat feeling tight with each new word. "Why are you telling me this?" he wanted to know, still not having the courage to face her.

She inhaled a deep breath, summoning the strength to keep talking, to keep herself from breaking down. "I know what we had back in school, this Draco that I'm seeing know - this coward who hides behind stupid ideologies like pureblood. I'm not asking for the moon and the stars, I'm just asking for you. You've been my home since we left Hogwarts, and I'm not sure I know where to go without you. Please, you can't tell me you don't feel the same way I do."

And the pair stood there, just like that, frozen with Draco facing the door and Hermione staring at his back. The internal battle waged in his head - stay with Hermione, the one person he'd clung to for half a decade, or turn his back and forget all about her in the name of family traditions. It was stupid, he realized, to throw away all they'd shared because his father wouldn't approve of a muggle-born witch.

"Please, Draco," he heard her whisper, a choked sob slipping past her lips. He turned, watching her resolve crumble. Soon, his arms wrapped themselves around her lithe frame,cradling , comforting his love. His chin rested atop her head, a hand running soothingly up and down her back as she cried against his chest.

"I never had that," he confided when her tears ebbed a bit. "I had a house, I had parents, I had servants who were there to bend to my every whim. None of it was a home."

His words were startling; never had there been such candor in his speech. Her hand delicately touched his cheek as he spoke. "This life, here with you, away from all of that, has made such a difference for me," he continued, leaning into her soft hand, feeling the way her thumb traced circles against his skin. "It scares me."

Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't have to be scary, it just has to feel right for you."

"It does," Draco replied, his lips pressing themselves to her forehead.

"Well, then, welcome home, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione greeted him with a kiss.

**The End.**

* * *

The story Hermione tells was from a show called "October Road." I've been in love with that scene since I saw it a couple years back, and ever since I've been playing around with it to fit into a story. I really hope it works here!


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